


50 (Quasi-)United States

by AsWeAreNow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: California, Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28813953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsWeAreNow/pseuds/AsWeAreNow
Summary: A series of one shots based around the incredibly awkward personifications of states.Tagged for California because mostly I write about California.
Kudos: 3





	1. Knoephla

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter appeared on FFN on 23 February, 2019. Crossposted from FFN under an account of the same name, but the name of the story on FFN is currently ‘Differences’.

North Carolina frowned. "Hey, South Carolina, whaddaya say we do something today?" He asked.

"Like what?" South Carolina responded, lazily picking at her nails.

"Well, something other than watching that." He pointed over to where California, New York, and Washington were trying to stop the younger states from killing each other— most notably, Colorado, Alaska, and South Dakota— while Wyoming and Hawaii watched from a distance. (Washington was actually very young and she hated California, but somehow she always ended up near California anyway.)

"We could join Hawaii and Wyoming."

"Nah. They need their alone time." North Dakota winked, walking up to them. He stretched. "Who wants to go out and shovel the snow with me?"

"What's it like outside?" Louisiana asked.

"Not so bad."

"Okay. I'll go. Better than watching those assholes argue over mountains for the 43,800th time."

"Hey, be careful. One of those assholes is my lil' brother." North Dakota chided.

They walked outside. "Crap! It's freezing out here!" Louisiana muttered.

North Dakota only laughed. "Nice. Well, I think it's hot out here." He took off his coat, revealing a Vikings T-Shirt and a cross necklace that hanged around his neck. "I'll treat you to some knoephla if you help me," he offered.

Louisiana didn't know what that was, but it sounded warm, so he nodded and continued to shovel the snow.

North Dakota seemed to clear his side quickly, and began to deal with Louisiana's side of the driveway as well.

Many people thought that Colorado was the truest winter trooper of all, but both Alaska and North Dakota rivalled that. Colorado was a bit of a showoff, considering he didn't have any winter coats anymore. North Dakota faced temperatures that were way below freezing, and he was fine with it— but he at least tried to act like a mortal, unable to withstand freezing temperatures ever.

Louisiana had barely shoveled two square yards on the driveway when North Dakota finished off the last of it.

Louisiana chuckled sadly. "Sorry I wasn't able to do much. We don't get much snow, and usually it melts the next day."

North Dakota laughed, hitting him on the back gently. "Nah, it's fine! You did a pretty good job, and you were quite the help! So, you wanted some classic North Dakota style food, eh?"

Louisiana shrugged. "Whatever works for you. Regardless, _laissez les bons temps rouler_."

North Dakota nodded in vague understanding. "Well, I could make it for you, but I'm afraid it'd take at least an hour. How about we go to a restaurant instead?"

"Sure." Louisiana shrugged. He didn't really care. "But... I'm gonna go inside and grab my coat." North Dakota laughed again, watching as the older state went inside before putting on his own coat.

He waited for Louisiana and then began walking.

"It's close, don't worry. It's only a ten minute walk... I think." North Dakota shrugged. "I hope you're hungry, because it's quite a hearty meal."

"I'm glad the snow is gone now," Louisiana said, glancing at their house one last time as they rounded the corner. "California, you know. He can't drive for crap even without snow. He won't run into the house now, at least."

North Dakota chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

"But you did most of it. Me, I hardly did anything."

North Dakota shrugged, but didn't say anything. "We're here," he said finally, grinning at Louisiana.

They stepped inside. The restaurant had a warm atmosphere, and Louisiana decided that he liked it. They shared the knoephla meal after it came and Louisiana had discovered he wasn't quite hungry enough to eat it on his own and North Dakota had proclaimed that he wasn't all that hungry anyway.

The pair talked for awhile. Most of the answers to Louisiana's questions were 'not so bad'— which must've been how Louisiana was lured into going outside.

It was nice. Very nice, Louisiana thought; much better than watching the little assholes argue.


	2. Aliens

It was a hot Sunday night.

Colorado and Arizona were sitting in Colorado's room, playing video games as Colorado talked about a new fitness app his people had made.

His phone rang. He picked it up; it was a FaceTime call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Colorado, hi. It's California."

"I know. I can see you."

California was panting. "You'll never believe what I— Why is Arizona in your room?"

Colorado flinched. His fear was palpable. "Um... I..." He sighed. "I was just talking about a new fitness app for working out-,"

California sighed. "You're too much like America," he frowned.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?" He prompted, because they weren’t going to have this discussion for the fifty-thousandth time—

"So you'll never believe it. I saw aliens. There's this weird-,"

"Aliens? Did you say aliens? You saw aliens?!" Arizona took Colorado's phone from him, shoving him aside. She was excited, though, so Colorado didn't really mind.

"You saw aliens?" She asked again.

"Yeah. There's like, this glowing cloud, and it's like really big."

"What? No way. Show me it!"

"I don't want to go outside," California admitted.

"Don't be a namby-pamby, California!"

"Fine. Fine!" California went outside. Colorado heard cursing, but he didn't bother to look. If Arizona wasn't worried, he wouldn't be either.

"Woah! No way! That thing's huge!" Arizona said.

"I know," California said nervously. "The power went out awhile ago. Everyone is nervous."

Colorado looked over. "California, that's the Milky Way.”


	3. Swinging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for drugs, sex and politics: the perfect combo. (No but seriously this chapter is very dark compared to the others.)

Florida wanted to scream. He wanted to shout and kick and cry.

There he sat, in his yoga class, watching people fighting each other over politics. "How could you possibly vote for the Democrats right now?"

"Because how the fuck could you vote for the Republican candidate? He's a racist—,"

"At least he's not a Dem! Fucking Democrats, dude!"

"What, and all of the Americans dying didn't matter to you? During the coronavirus? Do you remember that?"

"Oh, and the fucking Speaker isn't a bullshit person? What about California?"

New York had screamed at Florida a lot during that time. She'd screamed at everyone a lot, but everyone hated Florida, so him getting screamed at more often was expected. California always argued with him over this, saying that all of the Midwest hated him (except for Colorado, or so California said). Florida still felt like most people hated him, although he supposed that could've been because of how loud certain southerners were.

"Oh, you motherfucker. Get your filthy misogynistic hands off of me!" The Democrat punched the Republican. Granted, the Republican had just tried to grab him.

"Fucking child killer!"

"Hey, guys, guys, let's just stop. Yoga class is supposed to be calming." Florida tried to intercept them.

The Democrat punched him in the jaw. "Oh my god, dude, I'm like, totally sorry! I meant that for Mr. Rebooblican over here, not you!"

"It's fine." Florida spit the blood out of his mouth. Goddamnit, why couldn't he just have a nice yoga class?

The Republican grabbed an ice pack from the freezer (this was a common occurrence) and brought it back to him.

"Thank you." Florida reached for the ice pack.

"Who are you going to vote for— the Democrats or the Republicans?" The Republican asked. Florida noted with something akin to annoyance that the ice pack was not currently numbing his jaw.

"I'm... not sure yet. I sort of forgot about the Democrat candidate until the primaries," Florida admitted.

"Oh." The Republican hesitated for another minute, and then reluctantly handed him the ice pack.

The silence was uncomfortable.

Florida was just starting to calm down, the prolonged adrenaline of being hit fading away. "I mean, I've swung like... four times throughout this conversation. I'll have to go home and do some really good research then, right?"

"I can send you articles!" The Democrat and Republican both spoke at once.

Florida sighed. "No, I'm fine. I think I'll just read some BBC or something."

"Oh. Well, fucking Big Boy wants to shove the government up your ass," the Republican said. "You should talk to me once you're done doing research."

"Well, Mr. Rich over here supports nepotism. As is evident by our recent White House advisors."

"Dude, what party are you a member of?" The Republican asked, turning to him again.

"Me? I'm— I'm an independent."

"Well, yeah. Everyone is... but what party do you follow?" The Democrat asked.

"I'm a registered Republican," the Republican said. "Are you an independent? Guess we know who the traitors are, eh?"

"How about... how about we find something to agree on?" Florida interrupted. "Just to calm down a bit."

"Okay. Fine." The Republican paused. "You know what I really hate? Living here."

"Oh, yeah, totally," the Democrat said. "I mean, my wife wanted our kids to live here, and of course I couldn't exactly compromise. But if I could I would pick up my bags and move to Colorado in an instant."

"Yeah man, fuck Florida. I would've moved by now, but sometimes ya just can't move from where you're born. My parents fell ill when I was in high school. I always wanted to get out of this fucking dump, but I... I never got the chance. My parents are ailing now, so it's only a matter of time, right?" The Republican laughed. "I always feel bad about thinking it, but goddamn. I just wish I wasn't affected by hurricane season... although I'm more of a Wyoming man myself."

"Eh... Well, Wyoming's not too bad." The Democrat smiled, in a classic display of 'please-don't-argue-I-was-only-joking-holy-shit-stop-sharing-your- opinion'. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"What do you think of Florida?" The two turned to Florida.

"Oh... Florida?"

"Yep. The state we all share at the moment."

Florida shook his head. "Hate him— I mean, it. Sometimes there's nothing you can do, though, right?"

"Well, that's no way to think," The Democrat said. "There's always opportunity for change!"

"Sometimes there's not," Florida said hesitantly. "It's just... Well... I've lived here my entire life, you know? I love this state, but these days I find that... well... I just don't love it like I used to. I wonder if I'm never going to be as happy as I was when I was a kid. But there's nowhere else for me, so I can't help wondering if I've already lived the best part of my life, and I'm just not ever going to be as happy as I used to be. I wonder if I'm going to spend the rest of my life reflecting on how happy I was and comparing it to now."

"Okay... but what does that have to do with living here?"

"Eh... nothing, I guess."

Florida's ice pack was starting to leak, and he supposed he'd overstayed his welcome. The instructor was looking at him weird, stopping from his fast-paced scribbling of ' **N O POLITICS** ' on the white board. Everyone was staring at Florida.

Florida just wanted to disappear. What the fuck was he saying? After all, he hadn't even been American for most of his time as a kid! He was pretty sure he hadn't had it as bad as Massachusetts, or any of the thirteen original colonies— apparently they, along with America, had all sustained some sort of trauma— and therefore he ought to be fine. Sure, he'd been happy, but wasn't he happier now? What if he'd only been happy because he was an innocent little kid?

Florida sheepishly excused himself and left.

Florida, of course, got stuck in traffic. He went home to find that all of the people on his block had yard signs for the Democratic candidate, which put him in a bad position. If he didn't put a yard sign up now, it'd look bad, but if he put one up for the other candidate, it'd look even worse. Normally Florida might not care, but he was rather desperate when it came to social matters.

He opened his door and went inside, falling into the comfort and safety that only a strong A/C could provide.

Florida hated election season. Seriously, hurricane season and then— and then what, a month, maybe three, of respite, and then it was election season every couple years! It sucked!

Most of the other states didn't have it as bad as he did. In fact, a few of the other states hated him just because of how important he was. They said he ought not to be depressed (Hawaii), that America loved him (Wyoming) and everyone wanted him on their side (Vermont), that he was lucky he was so fortunate (West Virginia). Florida still felt like shit anyway.

Even worse, he felt like he couldn't go back to his yoga class.

Florida ended up sleeping the next eighteen hours.

* * *

California was straight up not having a good time.

Here he was, sitting in something that a state like fucking Florida would consider Heaven. No risk of swinging. California was safely nestled in the 'love' of one party. He couldn't imagine being like Florida, hated by all but desired all the same.

That didn't mean that people left him alone. By all means, there were always issues. Almost all of the Midwest hated him, including Colorado (though he wouldn’t outright admit it, and though they both always acted like they were friends), which was fairly difficult to deal with. Everyone else hated him, too, just less so. California didn't get what was wrong with him. Even the Democratic states hated him! Didn't they agree on things?

That wasn't even the worst part. No, the worst part was just that California was not having the time of his life like he'd always thought he would. People would ask him to protest and take to media to share his opinion, and California... couldn't. He couldn't do it. He just wanted to chill out, have fun, be loved.

He could let that go now. For just a bit.

California had found a new outlet: Comedy. He sat there, fingers itching around a bottle of water. He stood, watching anxiously, trying to ignore the people with cocaine a few yards away from him. California had been shocked when he'd first gotten into entertainment and had seen so many people wiping their noses, shaking off their credit cards and keys— but he was used to it now. Besides, it wasn’t like everybody did drugs.

California paid attention to the current performer's jokes. He couldn't help the poor souls in his life. God, this performer sucked. A lot of people in the audience were laughing, but mostly the performer was rolling off dad jokes. California was powerless, but it wasn't his job to help people anyway.

"Thank you, everybody. You've been so awesome. Have a good night." The lady stepped off and gave him a curt nod.

California smiled and stepped onto the stage, put his water bottle next to the podium. His mind went numb; all he was aware of was the crowd, staring, waiting. They wanted to be entertained, and he couldn't do this.

"Hey, everybody. It's a pleasure to be here; to see all your absolutely dazzling faces. I love Los Angeles." California kept a grin plastered to his face.

The audience laughed at this. "I know, I know. Los Angeles fucking sucks." More laughter. "But, you know, I've lived here my whole life, and sometimes shit just doesn't change."

He proceeded to zone out for the next five minutes, and then his bit was over and he stepped away.

"You did great, bro," the owner said.

"Did I?" California laughed, but he was feeling a bit shaky and he ended up just going home.

The drive home sucked. California didn't know what New York thought, or Florida either, but he knew what he thought: he would give up everything and restart his life from scratch if only to put an end to Californian traffic in a good, reasonable manner.

His phone rang. He almost jumped, and then turned the radio down and answered. "Hello?"

"Hi... Dude, could you show up to the rally tomorrow?"

"Sorry?"

"You know. The rally."

"Oh, right. This is kind of late to be asking, don't you think? I mean, it's six in the evening. I was just—,"

"So will you or not?"

"Yeah, of course."

...

California showed up to the rally the next day. California hadn't been sleeping well recently, and had actually intended to use today to catch up on work and sleep, and maybe go grocery shopping too; he had little in his apartment.

Instead, here he was. California almost regretted this, but he knew he would've felt bad if he hadn't shown up. He supported this cause, after all.

He hadn't slept last night, either. At all. Instead he'd used last night to go grocery shopping and catch up on work. If cities never slept, California shouldn't have had to either.

Maybe it was just him, but even though he'd lost sleep to come here it seemed as though his friend group, which hardly liked him at all anyway, was mad at him. They weren't really including him in the conversation. California was always just there because of the connections he had. California was one of those motherfuckers that somehow knew everybody, and that was useful.

It wouldn't be too surprising if they didn't actually like him and just wanted him there because of his influence. That was how it always was. California knew that if he disagreed with anything they said he'd be a lost cause to them. They'd give up on him, instead going to all of the people he knew. California was easier, but not very worthwhile, apparently.

...

Even if they didn't really like him, they still invited him to a party afterwards. 'That's showbiz, baby,' was the first phrase that came to mind.

...

California woke up the next day with someone in his bed. His lungs hurt and his mouth was dry, so he headed downstairs.

He caught his reflection in the window, and quickly shut the blinds. Apparently he'd had a nose bleed at some point. Even if he didn't really remember what happened, he was surprised that someone was in his bed, then. After all, successful sex was hard to come by at after parties, depending on what you took.

He made breakfast and kept on with his work. When the woman he'd slept with came downstairs, he offered her breakfast and a ride home. California waited patiently for her to finish eating. Apparently it was her car in the driveway and not his, so he just told her to leave.


	4. The Most American State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Politics, but much lighter than the last chapter.

California was having a wonderful day. His headphones were in, so he couldn't hear the rest of the states, and better yet he was listening to odes of pure beauty. California was one of the most beautiful states, and there was much content dedicated to him. He lived in his own little bubble.

It was a good thing he couldn't hear the other states, because right now they were having an argument about him.

"Okay, okay, and I get that— really, I do! But look at California!" Texas said.

Another day, another political argument.

New York casted a glance at California, took just a moment to look disgusted with everything about him, and then calmly cleared her face of any emotion. "He looks happy," New York said.

"Yeah, and I'm surprised. He's got a constant homeless problem, and he's on fire." Nevada pitched in— a true traitor.

"I know, right? You're not even happy after sending people to other states," South Carolina muttered. Nevada stayed in his blue lane after that.

Everybody gradually began to chip in their opinions about California.

Texas naturally didn't like him. Washington blatantly told California to go fuck himself. Colorado was a whole lot nicer about it and just said, "You don't need to come around so much, buddy. Go to a different state."

Everybody seemed to direct their opinion at California as if he would respond. California was still in a catatonic state of pure bliss and didn't notice any of their somewhat harsh words, and even if he did he wouldn't have cared.

America eventually unlocked the door. He didn't live here— he would never want to— but sometimes on his way home he would check on them. The states were still arguing, as they usually did in the evening, so America wasn't too surprised. What he was surprised to hear was that the argument was about California.

"Okay, okay, okay. We don't need to talk badly about our fellow states," America chided.

"Fuck you! Mind your own business!"

America was, of course, the federal representation of the country. He wasn't a state and over half of the states didn't like him at any given time.

The argument continued with America just patiently listening to both sides. On one side there were the general blue states who either said, "Yeah, California kinda sucks but at least he actually contributes something to this country other than shame" or "I'm sure hell is better than living in a red state." On the other side were the general red states who all said some variation of, "California is an overpriced shithole that brings disgrace to the union, and we don't need 14.6% of our economy" or "I'm sure living in California is better than living in Mississippi". It was pretty back-and-forth with everybody bringing up the same points they had the whole time.

Swing states, and general 'yeah either one is fine just please fuck someone take care of me' states, such as Florida, seemed neutral, if not very aggressively so; these states tended to say, "Well, California is nice to visit," or bring the attention to back to themselves.

California wandered to the kitchen, shoved his phone into his pocket, and went to the fridge. He pulled out a cup of yogurt and an avocado, poured himself some orange juice, and sat down to a less-than-stellar dinner. The other states continued to argue.

Finally America said, "Okay, okay. I have a solution."

The other states, who were somewhat tired anyway, finally quieted down.

"We just ask California what he thinks. No one is going to know California better than a Californian, right?"

At least five of the states didn't really agree with this sentiment, but they went along with it anyway. Before anyone else could ask California in a respectful manner, Texas had already gone over and pounded California on the back half-way to bruising.

California took out his headphones, reluctant to stop listening to the choir that had once sung about him. "What is it, dude?" California asked, as good-naturedly as one can be when they get hit in the back repeatedly for no apparent reason.

"What do you think of where you live, Cali?"

California cringed a bit at this, but did not care to correct the assault of his name. "What do I think?" California asked. He blinked, surprised, and then said, "Wow. No one ever asks my opinion." Everyone always assumed what California's opinions were. Their assumptions often didn't match up with reality, but none of that mattered when they took up ceaselessly bullying him for them anyway. "Huh. Like, what do I think of California as a whole, or what do I think of Sacramento?"

"California as a whole."

California took another bite of his yogurt, frowned a bit. "This is a trap, isn't it?" He asked.

"No, it's not," America reassured him, even though all forty-nine other states were also crammed into the kitchen to hear California's response.

"Oh, okay. Well, I like it there. It's not cold, and it's not usually too hot. You get the best of nature that the country has to offer. I have the biggest economy in the country. The drivers aren't weird like how they are everywhere else."

"That's BS," Montana interrupted. "Sorry, but how could you possibly like it there? You're always on fire and you have a ton of homeless people and you pay extraordinary rent."

California mumbled, "All good points," and thought on it for a bit longer. Finally he said, "I can afford an apartment anywhere in the United States. If I didn't like it here, I would move for a couple years... like to, eh, your state, whatever your name is." Montana was mighty offended by this, but California just continued: "Yeah. I would just move until I missed it again. But I don't, so clearly I like it here. At least, I don't mind it."

America just laughed and patted California's head; California was America's favorite state, and was the most American one in personality, lingo, and reality. The two had many similarities, such as getting relentlessly verbally bullied by their friends, having a disregard for everyone other than themselves, and being very influential (to the chagrin of their circles).

None of the states laughed. 'I don't mind it' was not satisfactory to either side.

**Author's Note:**

> If this is your sort of thing that’s hella lit. A comment would be great, and have a wonderful day.


End file.
